She thought back to her therapy sessions that she went to after the accident. Talk it out, her doctor would say. If your voice can’t find the words, then write them in a letter. Get the feelings out however you can. Maybe she could have talked through those feelings if she wasn’t so raw. If she wasn’t so shaken by depth of her feelings for Steve and so vulnerable at the fact that history was repeating itself. Maybe she deserved him dumping her thirteen years ago after the accident. Well, ‘deserved’ was a strong word… but maybe she could understand it. Understand how and why he could blame her so adamantly for the accident. But this time? This time, she did nothing wrong.
Yvonne shut the water off and after a quick towel dry, she slid into shorts and a tank top, not even bothering to look in the mirror.
There was a quick rap on her front door and Yvonne stole a quick look at the clock. That was fast, she thought. Then again, Giuseppe’s was only a five minute drive and Lex’s was within walking distance. “It’s open, Kyra,” she called out, flipping her head over and tying her hair into a ponytail.
Only, Kyra didn’t walk in. Still bent over, she watched through her legs as Steve entered. And he looked nearly as wrecked on the outside as she felt on the inside. His eyes met hers and their connection radiated between them, buzzing alive like some sort of short circuited wiring.
Yvonne flipped her head back, her ponytail lashing like a whip, and she felt suddenly unsteady on her feet. A mix of day-old Limoncello and panic roiled in her stomach as the silence shimmied between them, only serving to make her all the more livid. “No,” was all she could manage to choke out, but she couldn’t move. She felt pinned by his pained stare.
“Yvonne, please,” he said, breaking the moment and taking a step toward her. The dogs rushed to greet him, completely unaware of the new situation. Hearing her name from his lips stirred something both achingly sour and sweet all at once. Like having that last piece of chocolate before lent and knowing it would be a long, long time before you had it again.
“What are you doing here?” she muttered. And damn him. She hated that him being there caused little fireworks to pop off in her belly. She hated how good it made her feel. But just as quickly as she felt the rush, her heart tweaked, then dropped in her chest, leaving it a hollow cavity.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said quietly.
An itch crawled up her spine like a line of ants making their way toward her head. A crazy laugh exploded from her lips. “You wanted to make sure I was okay?” she repeated, the cynicism bitter on her tongue. “I’m fine, Steve. I’m still standing. I’m not curled into a ball in a fit of tears. So, you can ignore those feelings of guilt you have. Flick Jiminy Cricket off your shoulder… your conscience is clear.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed, hot and tender, and she could feel him studying her, assessing her and the situation. “You should know me better than to think this visit is about my conscience.” She tried to swallow past the tightness in her throat, but it wasn’t much use.
“So what was it, then? Couldn’t handle seeing me on such a constant basis? The living embodiment of your life’s biggest mistake? Or was it that you couldn’t handle seeing me because you know as well as I do that that accident was more my fault than anyone’s.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Eve.”
“Then give me an explanation. Give me anything.” she pleaded.
“You’re going to have a great life. You’re going to rescue animals, meet a man who’s not terrified to put you in his car, get married and have a gorgeous family.” His declaration had her heart going again, thrumming in speedy beats against her chest, blood thundering in her head. “And I’ll be the guy around town you see now and then. Because that’s inevitable. And I’ll help save the animals you rescue. Always. But that’s all we can be to each other.”
There was a long beat of silence as she stood there stunned, her wet ponytail dripping down the back of her neck. “Don’t you dare tell me what I can be,” she said quietly. “What I’ll have. You don’t get to live under a disillusioned umbrella that my life is going to be beautiful and fine because of some martyr-filled choice you made for me.”
“You’re missing the point. I’m not being a martyr. You are better off without me.” Steve dragged his hands through his hair, his messed up tresses almost as discomposed as he was. “This isn’t about my own well-being. When have I ever put that above what you want? Above what’s good for you?”
“Well, if this is all really just about me—this visit and this breakup—then you should know me well enough to know that you’re the last person I would want to see today. You made your choice last night. You ended us. You lost the right to just pop in whenever you feel like it.” That truth was a soft bite of pain and it tore through her. “I can’t believe I let this happen again. I can’t believe you’re abandoning me again.”
“I guess you’re right,” he said, turning for the door. He paused, reaching his hand out for the door, only instead Gatsby slid beneath it, coaxing him to pet him. “It’s not because I don’t love you,” he said over his shoulder.
She should have shoved him out the door then. She shouldn’t have listened to what he had to say. But heart wrenching sadness and history and curiosity all won out over rationality.
“Because I do love you.” His voice broke, but he continued anyway. “It’s just that my scars run a hell of a lot deeper than what you can see on my face.”
He gave Gatsby another pat on the head before opening the door. Yvonne didn’t know what came over her. But she rushed for him, her body hot and sweaty, and she slammed the door shut in front of him, her blood nearly to a boiling point.
“My scars run deeper than what you see, too.” She gripped his shoulders, spinning him to face her. “But they hardened me. Made me stronger. It’s about what’s inside of you,” she said, shoving her finger into his chest. “The same boiling water that softens a pot of rice also hardens the egg.” It was the expression her dad had said to her as she laid in the hospital bed, the pillow beneath her head saturated with tears.
She’d expected Steve to argue her some more. Expected some sort of response or to have some punch left in him. But when he lifted his gaze to hers, those piercing blue eyes sharpened before cloaked emotion smoothed his face into a passive nod. “The thing about that, Eve… we don’t get to choose to be an egg or rice. You’re born as one or the other. I know I’m not perfect. I’ve got a shit ton of stuff to work on… but don’t stand there and think you’re better than me because you’ve managed to turn yourself off to those emotions.”
Her heart squeezed so tight that it momentarily took her breath away. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “I love you, too. Stay.” She closed her hand over his. “Because this time, I don’t think I can convince myself that I hate you. Which means I’m condemned to love you forever.”
Holding her gaze captive, he pushed a hand over his jaw, and she could hear the stubble scraping his hand like velcro over silk. “That feeling will fade,” he said.
“You mean like it did thirteen years ago?” He knew as well as she did that was a damn lie. Their feelings hadn’t faded after high school, and they sure as shit wouldn’t now either.
With that, he yanked the door open and walked out of her house. Yvonne pressed her hand against the hard wood, the grains rough against her palm and she slid to the floor, allowing the tears to flow. A wet nose touched hers and when she opened her eyes, a bleary Gatsby came slowly into focus.
Her sobs came in harder, faster waves as she clutched her dog around his neck and buried her face in his scruff.
‡
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Almonds can’t make real milk,” Lex said to Steve, his accent becoming more pronounced, the more passionate he got with a subject. “There’s nothing they nurse. It’s just basically fat mixed with water and then straining the pulp.”
Steve gave a weary shrug. Lex was awesome… he liked the guy a whole lot. But more than anything th
at morning, he just wanted to get his iced coffee and the latte he ordered for Amanda and get the hell out of there. “The milk mammals produce is basically just fat and water as well.” He fiddled with a cup of stirrers, straightening them into a neat pile. “Besides, what else are you gonna call almond milk? No one’s gonna buy something called Nut Juice.”
Lex laughed at that, snapped a lid onto the iced latte, and slid both coffees to Steve.
Minutes later, he walked into his clinic and was barraged by Amanda, grinning like a cat in a field of mice. “I aced my summer finals!” she said, holding out her arms.
Steve forced a smile. His misery shouldn’t affect how proud he was of her. He pulled her into a friendly hug. “Congratulations, Amanda. What did we agree on? Iced coffees? Some booze?”
“What about a raise?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
Steve slid a hand into his pocket. It had been over a year since he’d given her a raise.
“Oh my God,” she said, eyes widening in disbelief. “I was just kidding, but you’re actually considering it?”
“How about an eight percent raise? I’d love for it to be more, but I can’t afford much higher than that.”
“I totally would have done this differently if I’d thought you would take me seriously. Scheduled a meeting, discussed how your business has improved since I was hired—”
“No need,” he said. “I already know all those things.”
She squealed and threw her arms around his neck once more. “This is the best day ever! Summer sessions are over and I get a raise.”
“Call me your genie,” he said, passing her the iced latte.
“Where’s your iced coffee for Yvonne?” she asked, looking at the clock on the wall. “She’ll be here any minute, right?”
“Gatsby should be here soon, yes.” Or so he hoped. She hadn’t called to cancel his appointment and Steve knew that she would never put her own emotional comfort over her dog’s health. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have Carrie or Kyra or another friend bring him in for her.
Amanda narrowed her eyes. “Oh, no. What happened?”
“Nothing,” he said, but couldn’t meet her eyes when he answered.
“Bullshit.”
Steve opened his mouth but before he could say anything, the door swung open and Gatsby came barreling in, his nose sniffing around Steve’s pockets for a treat. Yvonne carefully stepped in behind him, her hand jerking to her mouth as she nibbled her nails, the polish from Cam’s engagement party now officially half chipped off.
From behind her oversized sunglasses, her eyebrows jumped and she looked as surprised to see him standing there as he did her. Which was ridiculous—it was his practice. A hollowness clutched his lungs, making breathing a hell of a lot harder than it should have been as tension shimmered between them.
He tried to read her… she didn’t seem mad. Then again, she’d had a couple of days to cool off since Sunday. His stomach whirled with a mixture of stress, misery, and emptiness.
She recovered faster than he did and fumbled inside her purse, holding out Gatsby’s leash for Steve to take—which he did. His fingers brushed hers briefly and… was that—did her hand linger at his touch, too? “I can’t stick around today,” she said, pushing her sunglasses higher on her nose. There was something tight and funny in her voice, and Steve looked to Gatsby because he was afraid that looking at Yvonne might break him. “Carrie will come pick him up in a couple of hours. She’s the other emergency contact listed on my form. You can call her when he’s ready. Otherwise, she’ll be here at eleven-thirty.”
Amanda nodded, her gaze shifting warily between them, but she seemed to know better than to say anything.
“Can we…” Yvonne gestured to the corner, indicating a moment of privacy and slid her sunglasses from the bridge of her nose. Those wide, hazel eyes were framed with thick spiky eyelashes and just the tiniest bit of makeup. Something Steve had always loved about Yvonne—the fact that she never wore too much. Most of the time, her face was bare. But when she did choose to dress up a bit more, it was breathtaking in a whole different way. Was the makeup for him? Or was she covering up red eyes and tears?
“I’m trying to find a new place for the race,” she said wearily, breaking his thoughts.
“You don’t have to do that. The race is only a week away—”
“Yes, I do. I have to at least try. But the mayor already had the city measure out the race course, which ends here. I could maybe get a permit and have the party in the park out front. It’s a lot of people to try to fit into your backyard area anyway—”
“Don’t change the location on my account. I can stay home during the event. Amanda can let you in and help set up instead of me.”
She shook her head. “With twenty-five animals out in the heat, we’ll need a veterinarian on-site. As you said… we have animals to save. It’s inevitable that we’ll be working together.”
“So switching locations…?”
“It’s more about the space issue. We’ve had way more people sign up than we counted on. The park will work better.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out his house key he had given her that weekend. The spare key he’d forgotten all about. “Here,” she said, her voice a little rough. “Eggs and rice were never meant to go together, anyway.” Her lips lifted in a weak smile. The sort of smile you do more to convince yourself than the rest of the world, and it squeezed Steve’s heart. He already missed her real smile, the one that wrinkled her eyes and caused her lips to curl back over her teeth.
He should have been relieved. Happy that she had come to terms with his decision being the right one. For both of them. But he was the farthest thing from happy.
She turned to walk away, but stopped herself. “But… just so you know. Whatever those scars are in here,” she touched her hand to his chest, “Or here…” Her fingers trailed up the length of his scar to his temple. The muscles in his jaw jumped, as did his pulse. “Maybe I could have helped. Maybe if you had talked to me about it, we could have worked through it together. I’m not made of porcelain. If going through your windshield didn’t break me, then hearing about whatever’s in your head certainly wouldn’t either.” She pulled her sunglasses down from her the top of her head, her blond hair spilling down the sides of her face with it. “It’s a standing offer. As your friend. Which I deserve a freaking Nobel Peace Prize for.”
A headache pulsed between his eyes and Steve dropped his head between his shoulder blades, letting out a low chuckle. She did deserve a prize for how amazing she was handling all of this. He was hard to be friends with. Even harder to love, he was certain.
Friend? Friend. The word rolled around in his mind, whirring, spinning like a cat with a ball of yarn. How could she possibly still want to be friends after all they had been through?
He watched, stunned as she left, bending to give Gatsby a kiss on the head before quietly shutting the door behind her. Gatsby sat patiently, tail wagging, ears perked, his brown eyes shifting from Steve’s face to his pocket.
Steve chuckled. “Okay. Yes, you’re a good boy.” He reached into his pocket as he guided the dog into exam room one. His fingers connected to the Milk bone and he tossed a treat to Gatsby. “What do you say we go kill some cancer cells.”
‡
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Yvonne sat in Elsa’s diner, typing furiously on her laptop. Permits were a pain in her ass, but she knew they were for the greater good. Luckily, she had an ace up her sleeve she’d never attempted to use before. But she would if she had to. She hit the send button, then fired off a quick email to their mayor, a woman she didn’t know especially well. But she’d seen her around the Western promenade walking her schnauzer, a scruffy, cute little thing. Yvonne crossed her fingers and hoped that appealing to the animal lover in Mayor O’Donnell would be enough to get her the permit, even though they required ten days for application review.
She fell back in her seat, taking a sip of her coffee
and closing her eyes. Here goes nothing, she thought, grabbing her cell phone. The phone rang once. Twice. Like clockwork, he answered on the third ring with a curt, “Hello.”
She could barely find her voice, but managed a quiet, “Dad?”
“Yvonne,” he said, his voice softening. It was subtle, but it was there. Anyone who knew her dad well could hear the difference.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, not at all.” But even as he said that, she could hear papers shuffling in the background and the distraction in his voice.
She launched into describing her fundraiser… the 10K race with the adoption event at the end. About halfway through, her father interrupted her.
“Yes, Jonah told me all about it. He’s gotten many of the lawyers at the firm to sponsor him for his 10K. I donated $50 per mile.”
Her breath sputtered and she momentarily lost her words. “He did that?”
“Oh sure. Your mother and I were planning to come to the event.” He paused, then added, “Not running of course. But after, for the party.”
“It’s nothing fancy, you know. Burgers, hot dogs—”
“You’ll have wine, right?”
“We’ll have wine. I’ll even make sure there’s pinot gris for Mom.”
“Who knows, maybe I’ll finally cave and get your mother a little lap dog. You got any small dogs that don’t shed?”
Yvonne was rendered utterly speechless. “Um, uh, yeah. Yeah, we do. The event you’ll be coming to actually has a couple of miniature poodles because we found a breeding mill—” She stopped herself. Her dad didn’t care about the little details. “I didn’t even know mom wanted a dog.”
“Oh, sure. She grew up with show dogs. She loves those little things. Hell, anything that she can put in a cute outfit and paint its toenails,” he chuckled. “Don’t know what the hell she would have done if you had been a boy.” Yvonne laughed, too, completely taken aback by this chatty, affable man she was speaking with. “Anyway, was that all? Just calling to invite us to your event?”
Healing You Page 21